It was a bright autumn day with hardly a cloud visible, and the temperature was brisk, yet pleasant.  I was off work for the day so I decided to talk a walk through the park that was a few blocks from my apartment I began looking for a book in case I found a suitable bench on which to rest.  I couldn’t decide which book to take at first.  It was almost a half hour before my fingers finally rested on Milton’s Paradise Lost.  I hadn’t read it in years, but for some reason Milton’s Satan came to mind a few days ago.  I was always struck by how much sympathy I had for him.  To Satan’s mind, by rebelling against God he wasn’t just being evil, he was rebelling against someone he saw as a tyrant.  He wanted to be the master of his own destiny.  Something inside me felt even if that “tyrant” was the creator of the universe, what’s so wrong about controlling your own destiny?  And I also felt bad for Adam and Eve.  By eating the forbidden fruit (from the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil) they just wanted knowledge.  Sure, they might have became “like God” by doing that, but what’s so bad about that?  Is God that selfish?   I walked to the park thinking more on Satan.  What if Milton was wrong?  Was the Devil really trying to “corrupt God’s creation” or was he being helpful; letting them learn?  Apparently, that’s exactly what he was doing.
I walked for a good hour around the park before settling on a bench facing a statue.  It caught my eye because it depicted Persephone sitting taking pomegranate seeds from Hades which consigned her to the Underworld.  Hades was bending over her shoulder in a very serpentine fashion.  Strange, I thought.  I’ve never seen that before.  I shrugged and opened my book.  It was a big park, after all.  Before I had gotten a full three pages into it, a man’s voice interrupted me.  He had short hair (at least, I can only assume he did since nothing was sticking out from beneath the faded red stocking cap on his head.  A long traditional looking trench-coat was button tightly against the fall weather.  His face is hard to describe.  Depending on what you were looking for, he could have been male or female; and an attractive member of either gender at that.  Even his voice was unisex.  I’m only saying “he” because… well, you’ll find soon enough.  Come to think of it, he could have even been from any region of any country in the world I could think of.  Just like his gender, whatever you were looking for, that was what he was.  When I thought: he’s clearly European; his skin was pale, his jaw defined.  And when I thought; he’s black; nothing in his face changed or shifted, he just looked like a pale white guy.  Mediterranean, Asian, Hispanic, Indian.  All the same.  It’s like every possible facial structure exploded on his head and just happened to be arranged in a pleasing manner.  I just stared at him for a few moments trying to figure him out before he repeated:
“That’s not how it happened.”
“What?”
“Milton was wrong.”
“How can a work of literature be wrong?  It’s just a story.”
“No it’s not.  I was there.”
“You were at the Garden of Eden during the fall.  Right.”
“I tried to get Milton to set the record straight.  I mean, I couldn’t very well go back in time and change the book of Genesis.”
“You don’t look hundreds of years old.”
“I’m not.”
“Then how could you have been alive to talk to Milton?
“Because I’m hundreds of millions years old.”
Oh no.  I thought all the crackpots only came to the park at night.  “And who might you be to live to be so old?”
“An angel.”
Under normal circumstances, I would have already walked away from him, but with my thoughts on Milton earlier and the strange statue, this was just too weird for mere coincidence.  “May I ask which angel you are?”  He ignored my question.
“First of all, the forbidden fruit wasn’t even an apple.  It was a pomegranate.”  Much too weird for coincidence.
“How did Milton get pomegranate mixed up with apple?”
“Well, the classical Latin for pomegranate is malum granatum; malus, meaning apple and granatus meaning grain, so it’s an apple with grains; referring to its seeds, of course.”
“You were speaking Latin with him?”
“It was the Renaissance.  All your European people were speaking Greek and Latin then.”
“Obviously not Milton if he got it wrong.”
“Oh, his Latin was fine.  It was his hearing that wasn’t great.”
“I thought he was blind.”
“What, a person can’t be blind and losing his hearing at the same time?”
“I guess.  Well, if he was blind, how did he write it down?”  I knew he was blind, by the time he wrote Paradise Lost, but I never thought to ask how he wrote it down.
“He told his daughter the whole story from memory and she wrote it down.  She thought he was ‘besought with a demon’ and didn’t know what he was talking about, so she changed the story all around.  Fucked it all up good.”
“So what else was wrong with it?”
“Well, Eve’s name was only Eve until after the ‘fall.’ Adam refused to call her anything bus Persephone after they left the Garden,” he said pointing to the statue.  “And the whole Hades/ Persephone myth is just a bastardization of the story.”
“Why would he call her Persephone?”
“Yeah.  You know how one of Satan’s names is Lucifer?  Well that means ‘bringer of light;’ his true name.  Persephone is Greek for “she who destroys the light.’”
“I don’t get it…”
“Man, you people can’t even get your own history right.  It pisses me off sometimes.  Ever read the book of Genesis?”
“In passing.”
“Well, after God discovered Adam and Persephone had eaten the fruit, he not only punished them but the serpent who tempted them—namely Lucifer.  The angel Yahweh—oh, I’m sorry ‘God’—“ (this sounded overtly sarcastic) “says to Lucifer in Genesis 3:15; ‘And I will put enmity between thee and the woman, and between thy seed and her Seed; It shall bruise thy head, and thou shalt bruise His heel."
“Why would Adam be mad at Eve—Persephone if Satan was just trying to corrupt them?”
“I was trying to help them damn-it!  What is wrong with you people!  You hear from one source that says I’m the ultimate evil and you take it as truth.  I’ve been trying for millennia to set the record straight and every time I find someone who can that damn Yahweh fucks it all up again.”
“You’re…”
“Lucifer, Satan, the Devil, The Prince of Darkness, call me any one of those or any other that comes to mind, but know that my given name was Lucifer.”
“Why should I believe any of this?”  
Lucifer sighed.  “Every time.  What, wanna see my horns or something?”
“Uh…”
“Well you can’t.  Don’t have any.  Wings I can do, though.”  He took off his trench-coat halfway to show me part of a blindingly white wing with feathers that looked like they were made of light.  An enormous heat came from them.
“Can I…” I asked tentatively reaching my hand out.
“Sure, if you want your hand to burn off.”
“Then how do I know if you’re tricking me or not.  Those could be fake.”  He sighed again, pulled out a tiny dagger from within his coat and pricked the wing.  A gooey silver liquid came out.  He took a few drops in his hand and wiped it on a rock.  Instantly a beautiful, delicate purple flower sprouted, grew and blossomed.
“Angels blood,” he said, obviously bored.  I got the impression he’d done this a lot.
“So why are you talking to me?”
“I should think that would be obvious by now.  I’m trying to set the record straight.”
“Why me?”
“Because you write well and you seem to have the right mind for this type of story; just like the rest of ‘em.”
“What makes you think I won’t fuck it up like the rest of ‘em?”
“I’ll get to that.  You ready to hear the whole thing”
I nodded
“So, it went like this:  God created heaven and it was good, yada, yada, yada.  But then he left.  He said to all us angels: “This is yours.  Have fun.”  He left so quick we didn’t even catch his name.  So then, this one angel named Yahweh decides “Hey, no one rules here!  I think I’ll become King of Paradise!”  So he is.  The only reason he had any power was because people followed him.  And the only reason people followed him was because they were bored.  I mean, what else do you do when your creator walks out of your life seconds after he created you.  It’s not like your life has much meaning.  I understood this, but I constantly tried to make the point that no one needed to rule.  We had everything we needed.  Why couldn’t we just live together without having someone  telling us what to do?  But I didn’t complain too much because I could pretty much keep to myself.  But then Yahweh started to become an asshole.  He wanted us to build him a palace for and monuments to him like galaxies and nebulae.  I didn’t complain too much then because they were fun to make and looked pretty.  Besides, the planets gave me somewhere to be alone with the other angels were being obnoxious.  After a while, it got worse and he went on an even bigger ego trip and started making us bow to him and call him Adonai and Abba and Lord and serve him food from the worlds we created.  If we didn’t do what he said he would banish us from Paradise for a few millennia.  And if we tried to come back before our sentence was up, he would have soldiers keep us out under threat of death.  I never thought he’d do it though.  I snuck back a couple times and if I got caught, he’d just kick me back out and add a few more millennia onto my sentence.  And like I said, I liked to keep to myself most of the time anyway.  
After this one angel’s fifth time being kicked out he was killed.  I couldn’t believe it.  Half of us were outraged, but the other half didn’t want to do anything because they were afraid Yahweh would have them killed, too.  Fuckin’ cowards.  Those who wanted to do something about it rallied around me because I was the first to speak out against him.  So, we got as many as we could together and stormed up to his palace with the intention of having a heart to heart.  You know what that cunt-rag and his brainless lackeys did?  They attacked us.  We didn’t even have weapons.  We retreated as best we could, but they still killed off close to half of us.  We regrouped with weapons the next day and actually held our own for a few days, but eventually we lost and were cast out of heaven, and this time, like Milton said, he chained us to a lake of fire.  After working on it for a couple centuries, a few of us were able to break free and help break out the others.  Then, also like Milton said, we held a council to figure out what to do.  I didn’t want to incite violence again because it got us nowhere but the damn lake of fire.
“I went up to Heaven to do a bit of scout work and found out Yahweh had created a new race; you guys.  Of course everyone said he was going to ‘favor’ them over anyone else, but I just knew if he created mortals he would just use them as worshipers.  Luckily some of you guys have caught on that the whole deal is complete bullshit.  Oh, and by the way; that whole thing about Sin and Death and screwing my own daughter? Also complete bullshit.  Milton’s daughter made it all up.  Stupid whore.  But anyway, I went to the Garden and convinced Persephone to eat the pomegranate so that she would know the difference between good and evil; see the light, so to speak that I was the good one, not the egomaniacal jerk she called ‘God.’  When she realized this, she helped Adam to realize it too; and rightfully so.”
I interrupted him. “So, why did Yahweh create the tree in the first place?”
“So he could give them something not to do.  He wanted to lord as much power over them as he could, and if they disobeyed, which they did, he could punish them.  I couldn’t stand that shit-eating grin on his face when he realized I was the one who convinced them to disobey him.  When he found out about it, Persephone knew they would kick them out of the Garden, so she ratted me out.  Lotta good it did her.  Adam was so pissed at Eve he started calling her Persephone.”
“So Milton was being a misogynist!  Woman are easily tempted and only care about themselves.”
“What?  No!  Just ‘cause one woman is a selfish bitch doesn’t mean all of them are.”
“But she was the first and only woman at the time.”
“First, yes, but only?  I don’t think so.  If that were true, all of Adam and Persephone’s descendants (in other words, all of humanity) would be inbred.  Actually, that’d explain a lot.  But, no.  After the ‘fall’ Yahweh created a lot of humans so that wouldn’t happen.  Besides, it gave him more people to rule.”
“So, the gist of what you’re saying is, God is not a god at all but is really a very selfish angel and you’re the savior of humanity?”
“Oh, that reminds me: the whole Christ thing was my doing.  I was the ‘Holy Spirit’ that gave her the ol’ brood of vipers if you know what I mean.” He elbowed me in the ribs and winked.  “While we’re on the subject, there was nothing immaculate about that conception.  Man, she was a fox.  I was all “Who’s ya Abba, bitch!”  I don’t think I need to describe the motion he made when saying this.  Unfortunately, despite Joshua’s divineness—that was his real name.  Did you know that?”
“Lemme guess.  Jesus was a Greek bastardization.”
“Bingo.  Anyway, he was a man of his conservative Jewish heritage, so he messed a lot of things up.  And what he did get right Yahweh managed to corrupt when Christianity became a mainstream religion (not to mention he had the poor sap killed); hence the medieval Catholics, the Spanish Inquisition, Southern Baptists, and loads of other crap.  Luckily people still get things right every now and then.”
“What about the resurrection?”
“Oh, that was me.  Literally.  I stole his body and walked around disguised like him for a while.  If I hadn’t, people would have said, ‘Oh crap.  God can’t die!  He must not have been the Messiah.  It would have been such a waste.”
I paused.  “So, where’s his body?”
“I buried it under the tree in Eden.  I found it both fitting and deliciously ironic.”
“Wow.  He was your son.  You sound pretty nonchalant about the whole thing.  Weren’t you sad? ”
“Are you kidding?  I was devastated.  But it’s not like we went to Father-Son picnics and played catch in the front yard.  Besides, it was two-thousand years ago.  I’ve gotten over it a bit.”
“I guess.”  I paused, thinking.  “OK, the story’s out.  How do you know I’m not gonna screw it up.”
“Ah, thanks for reminding me.”  He did some little movement with his hand I could barely detect and all of the sudden he was holding a pomegranate.
“That’s not…”
“The Forbidden Fruit.  I stole some seeds and planted my own in Hell.  I have an orchard full of ‘em.  Oh, and by the way, where I live is not really called Hell and it’s much nicer than Dante would have you believe.”
“What’s it called?”
“San Francisco.”
“No way…”
“Way, my friend.”
“I love Frisco!”
“You should.  I built it.”
“Wait, how will eating the Forbidden fruit help me to remember your story?”
“Well, you’ll have intimate knowledge of everything that is good and everything that is evil; things that are thought by man to be good but are actually evil and vice versa; including my story.”
Makes sense, I thought.
“So,” he said with a flourish of his hand.  “Here’s the million dollar question.  Do you eat the fruit?”
I thought about it for a few minutes, then nodded slowly.  Lucifer smiled, took out the dagger again and cut into the fruit.  Light bled through the crack, then flooded out when he opened it fully.
“Here.  Have six,” he grinned handing me the seeds.  “Just like Persephone.”  I laughed and took them.  After I swallowed the juice there was a *pop* in my soul and my whole worldview was changed.  Lucifer saw the look on my face and laughed.  It reminded me a lot of Santa Claus.  “Now don’t fuck it up, kid,” he said with a wink and disappeared.  After that, I went back to my apartment to think and write it all down.  

A few days ago, I went back to the park to find the Persephone statue again.  It wasn’t there.  I even sat at the same bench, but no statue.  I even waited around to see if Lucifer would show up.  I think I’ll drive out to San Francisco and see if I can find him.  I want to make sure I didn’t miss anything.  So, that’s exactly how it happened.  I’m spent.  I don’t have anything else to say except this: the fruit definitely works.  Oh, and stay away from Twinkies.